Of course, there's the usual SWAG (shit we all get) of glowsticks, flags, and condoms. In another instance, a very handsome guy who walked by me slapped a sticker of my chest that said, “YOU.” “That way, if you forget who you are, look down!” he laughed with the purest sense of joy on his face. I wasn't expecting anything but afterwards he let me pick a page from a stack of papers, which turned out to be a novel he had written himself. I lent my lapptop to someone who was writing an email to his boss to say that he wasn't going to make it to work. You can give someone something, preferably something that reflects something personally, but you can't necessarily expect something back. There is a Coffee Camp with industrial-strength La Marzoccos and Seattle baristas (yay!), which is the only place you can buy anything with cash (besides Ice Camp) in this “gift economy.” Nothing else can purchased. I had my first hot cup of tea this morning. Is this utopia? A place where we all live in peace and as equals? It is so beautiful in the morning as the sun comes out. He was a hardworking entrepreneur who lived and pursued his dreams with intensity. It's going to be challenging to summarize this remarkable man's life. I'm going to say a few things and get some help from a friend to work up a segment in formal Chinese (similar to what I did for my mom two and a half years ago). It's been good for the family to distract ourselves from the grief and focus the arrangements for the funeral service. Little things he said lately made me think that he was preparing us for what might happen.
He was likely thinking about how much he could tolerate the surgery itself and whether he was going to be really out of the danger zone afterwards. His angiogram did not have great news and it was clear that he needed to have bypass surgery. His friends noticed that he was a little down during the last couple of weeks. His heart continued beating faintly and irregularly for about an hour, then his breathing completely stopped. Sometime before 4:30 pm, the nurses started "the process" of giving him morphine and taking him off the IVs and ventilator. I was feeling so many different emotions, but mostly, I was numb with shock. We all took our turns to say our goodbyes. My main concern was that he be in as little pain as possible and that we should not prolong his suffering needlessly. He wasn't making any improvement since being admitted, and as time passed, his chances of getting better were diminishing. After consulting with the physician and nurses, the family decided to discontinue meds and mechanical life support of Dad.